By Twilight's Veil
by Tahimikamaxtli
Summary: The duties of the Fist of Shadow require absolute resolve and no hesitation.
1. Shroud

**By Twilight's Veil**

Shroud:

 _Ionia, November 1423_

The cold November rain thudded like falling stones against the sloped roof of the temple, beating a quick tattoo that echoed loudly in the emptiness of the main hall. It was an incessant, hollow sound like drums, and it did little to improve Akali's already gloomy spirits.

She sat on a woven-straw mat in a corner of the long main hall, wrapped in a thin wool blanket that was far from sufficient, given the sting of the winter chill. Blinking tired, red-ochre eyes against the darkness, she pulled the thin blanket as tightly as she could around her small form and tucked her chin securely into her chest. Though the many windows of the temple were drawn shut, Akali could still feel the sharp bite of the howling wind as it found its way through the gaps in the wood; the lanterns that were hung on the walls were there for light only, and their flickering flames did little to warm the cold air in the hall. However, despite the coolness of the night, she did not allow herself to shiver or show any other signs of discomfort – her mother would never permit it.

Hugging her chest tightly beneath the security of her blanket, Akali glanced as slyly as she could at the only other figure in the temple with her; her mother knelt on a mat of her own near the center of the hall, and there was a blanket draped over her sharp shoulders as well. Her silhouette cut a severe figure against the darkness of the shadows in the room, and she was lit occasionally by muted flashes of lightning from the storm outside. She had not moved from her place beside her husband's body for several hours now, and Akali was not entirely sure whether or not she was praying – or if she had simply fallen asleep kneeling.

The others who had come that afternoon to pay their respects to her father had already gone, leaving the two of them alone, as was custom; it was tradition for only family and close friends of the deceased to perform the _Mou no Sumin_ – the Vigil of Dreams: for the whole night, Akali and her mother would stay in the same room as her father's body, so that their presence would guide his soul away from the world of the living and safely into the spirit world, where it now belonged. Once the sun had risen, his soul would join the rest of the spirits that disappeared with the coming of the morning light, and one last ritual would be performed by the monks of the temple – the _Asa no Karashini_ , or the Greeting of the Morning – before his body would finally be cremated and his remains interred in the family grave.

It was a process that had been fully explained to Akali the week before by the temple monks, and though she herself had not yet personally participated in a Vigil, it was an experience that she was all too familiar with; her mother had vanished on countless nights when she was younger to attend the Vigils of many a fallen member of the Kinkou, and it was a long time ago now since she had first explained it to Akali.

Following tradition, her mother wore a black kimono of mourning to match the one that her husband had been dressed in. Akali herself was dressed in a similarly-colored kimono of her own – though as a child, she also wore the customary string of blessed prayer beads around her neck, so that when her father's spirit finally passed, there would be no risk of him latching onto her. Beneath her blanket, the fingers of her right hand felt along the outlines of the little round wooden beads, and sleepily, she tried her hardest to focus on the fact that her father was dead. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to muster up what she thought was the proper amount of grief; when her mother had told her of his death, she had instead felt a peculiar hollowness in her chest where she thought her sadness should have been. It reminded her of a memory from when she was younger, when she had come across the body of a dead falcon in the woods; it had been melancholy to see something so beautiful dead, but the feeling had been momentary, and she had almost forgotten it altogether after 10 paces.

It had been strangely unsurprising to see him in his casket, as stiff and as cold as marble – after all, he had never been exceptionally warm to her even when he was still alive. For the most fleeting of moments, Akali had even entertained the notion to herself that perhaps he would somehow be warmer to her now that he was dead, but she had banished the thought as quickly as it came – levity and other expressions of humor were considered taboo during the Vigil; to show outward signs of anything other than mourning would risk incurring the anger of the spirit of the deceased. And Akali had heard enough folktales of spirits that had twisted into vengeful demons during past Vigils to take such warnings lightly. Biting back a quiet sigh of boredom, she picked idly at the mat beneath her bare feet with her fingernails; there was very little to do beside sit and wait for morning, which was still several hours away. Glancing up once more, she snuck another quick look at the motionless form of her mother.

She had not shed a single tear since the news of her husband's death, and unwillingly, the nagging seed of doubt that had formed deep in the pit of Akali's stomach gnawed at her once more. She was almost certain that her mother did not truly mourn her father's passing at all; she had received the news of his death without emotion, and had set about seeing to the necessary preparations without any sign of grief. Though, in some place deep down inside of her, Akali knew that she should not have been surprised; her parents had never been particularly warm towards one another – she could only recall one or two instances where she had ever seen them kiss, and even then, it had been cold and without passion. They had never argued, but Akali had always figured that was due to the fact that her mother was gone so often on missions for the Kinkou. For some time now, there had been a question clawing at the back of her mind, and Akali mustered the courage to speak. She waited until there was another flash of lightning, and once the last echoes of the roll of thunder had faded away, she spoke up.

"Did you love my father?" she asked quietly, as though the body that lay in the casket beside them was not his.

Her mother turned suddenly to look at her from her place in the center of the room, and her face was cast in dancing shadows by the flickering candle lights. Her expression betrayed nothing, and her narrow eyes – an inky black like the evening sea – met Akali's red-ochre eyes evenly. For several long moments, the only sound was that of the steady drumming of the rain against the roof of the temple, and the occasional crack of distant thunder.

"No," she said finally, and somehow, Akali was not surprised to realize that it was the answer she had been expecting.

She glanced at the corner of the room where her father's body lay; for a moment, it had looked as though the lights of the many lanterns had flickered, as though blown by an invisible breath. At the same time, Akali thought she felt a slow draft shudder through the room, and the beating of the rain against the roof seemed to deepen in tone.

 _Maybe he was listening_ , thought Akali to herself. As inconspicuously as she could, she reached once more for the prayer beads around her neck, her eyes darting to the writhing shadows beside her. Quieting her breath, she hunched her shoulders and tried to make herself as small as possible.

"But I did not hate him."

Akali looked up at the sound, surprised that her mother had spoken more after her characteristically curt reply; the shadows that played across her face accented the tired lines around her eyes, and she inhaled slowly. She looked almost resentful, and Akali was speechless with disbelief.

"Our marriage was arranged when we were little more than children. As the Fist of Shadow before me, my father – your grandfather – entertained no notions of romance. He and your grandmother had been matched as children as well, and as a child, I knew never to expect anything more. I first met your father when I was your age, and though I tried to think otherwise, I knew I would never love him." She paused, and the rain beat like drums against the roof. Akali waited without speaking for her to continue; it was the longest her mother had ever spoken to her about matters outside of training.

"But Tien was… a good man. One of the few." She looked down at her hands, and Akali thought she might have heard her sigh. "He was honest, and… faithful. He made a good husband." She paused again, and when she resumed, Akali could barely hear her over the sound of the rain. "I did not love him, nor do I think he ever loved me. But he cared for you when I could not, and that was enough for me."

Silence fell between the two of them once more as Akali considered her mother's unexpected words; at this point, it had come as no surprise to her to hear her mother admit that she never loved her father, though she could not help but feel a touch of reassurance that their relationship had at least been a mutual understanding. And though it was only the smallest of comforts, she was glad that her mother had not totally resented her marriage to her husband. Akali rubbed her forearms absentmindedly with her hands, unconsciously thinking back to all the times her father had shown her affection; even when he had hugged her or kissed her, the gestures had always seemed more like formalities for him. To her own dismay, she realized that she herself had never felt the urge to show him much warmth in return – nor had she ever truly expected any. And it was with a heavy heart that throbbed hollowly with something closest to shame that Akali realized that she would not miss him now that he was gone. Looking down, she closed her eyes momentarily as she muttered a short prayer for his safe passage into the spirit world.

 _Forgive me, Father_ , she thought apologetically once she had finished; she thought it was the least she could do for the man who had raised her.

"Akali."

At the sound of her name, she snapped back to attention, straightening and opening her eyes. For a moment, she was sure that her mother had thought that she had fallen asleep, and she readied herself for the certain admonitions to come; to her surprise, however, when she looked up, she realized that her mother was inspecting at her with a curious expression that she barely recognized as something almost akin to affection – it was a look that she could not remember seeing on her mother's face since she was a little more than a child. It was an expression that did not suit the usually severe sharpness of her mother's face, and she could tell by the way her lips were pressed into a thin line that she herself did not know exactly how to proceed. Slowly, she raised her hand, extending it almost invitingly to Akali.

"Come here, _Illi_ ," she said, in a tone that was gentler than Akali had ever heard her take.

 _Illi_ – it was a nickname that her mother had not used for her since she was a baby, and Akali swallowed. Nervously, she shuffled her small form over to where her mother sat and knelt before her. She was slightly bowed as she waited as motionlessly as she could for her mother's coming reprimands.

"My beautiful daughter…"

Akali almost flinched as she felt the touch of her mother's hand against the top of her head; she was no stranger to physical punishment, and had come to expect nothing but pain from her mother's infrequent touch. This time, however, she was stunned to feel the soft brush of her mother's fingers as she ran them through her sleek, midnight-black hair. It was a foreign sensation, but one that unexpectedly opened a sharp chasm of yearning deep in Akali's chest. Unconsciously, she leaned against her mother's hand as her mother tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, closing her eyes with a soft inhale. After a moment, her mother's other hand came to rest against her shoulder, and gently, she drew Akali into her arms. Letting go of the breath she had been holding, Akali rested her head comfortably against her mother's chest. She smelled like bamboo floors and peppermint, and Akali marveled at just how warm she was, despite the piercing chill of the evening. Her mother's arms wrapped protectively around her, and she felt her mother kiss the top of her head with a tenderness that she had never showed her before. All the while, her fingers continued their slow path through her hair.

"Sleep, _Illi_ ," whispered her mother, and Akali felt her lips move against her hair. "I shall wake you when the time comes."

It was as though the words themselves carried a spell of drowsiness; suddenly sleepy against the warmth of her mother, Akali closed her unexpectedly heavy eyes, and she felt her mother wrap her own blanket securely around the two of them. Even with the steady sound of the rain and thunder, Akali felt a peace like she had never known before steal over her. Twilight was nearing, and darkness fell around them like a funerary shroud, but Akali was already fast asleep.


	2. Mark

Mark:

 _Ionia, April 1425_

Akali knelt on the smooth bamboo floor of one of the many empty rooms within the Kinkou temple, her eyes closed and her breathing even. She was dressed in a plain grey _shozoku_ – the standard uniform of all Kinkou disciples – though she had removed her mask and had placed it beside her to meditate. Her midnight-black hair was tied back into a long ponytail that fell just past her shoulder blades, and it swayed gently in time with each one of her slow breaths.

She had always been one to pride herself on her self-assurance, but at that moment, there was a strange uncertainty that ate away at her insidiously; the decidedly unfamiliar twinge of hesitation wormed its way deep down into the pit of her stomach – a sensation that she had not felt in a long time. And though it did not come as a surprise to her that she should feel it now, she found herself frustratingly unable to quash it as effortlessly as she usually could; any minute now, she was to begin the final and, if history was to be believed, the most tasking step of her Kinkou training.

The 6 Paths, as their training was known, required complete and total mastery over the 6 aspects that were demanded of a full-fledged Kinkou member; it was only when all 6 were fully completed could a student then elect to under the final test: the _Rishi no Sura_ , or the Painting of the Flesh. Though there were fewer than a dozen students each year who even dared the Painting – and even fewer who endured it successfully – only those who received the Mark of Twilight could be chosen for the most dangerous missions of the Kinkou Order.

And more importantly for Akali, only those with the Mark of Twilight would be considered for one of the 3 Sacred Burdens.

Akali had already spent the past several weeks preparing herself as best she could, but the tradition of the _Rishi no Sura_ specifically forbade any prior preparation – the ritual demanded to be experienced to the fullest for the very first time. And though she already had a clear idea of what to expect, she did not doubt that it would be anything but as painful as her other tests had been; she had completed the last trial of her 6 Paths almost 3 months ago now, and though she had been eager to immediately undergo her Painting, her mother had suggested that she wait. She had only just managed to hide her impatience when her mother had cautioned her – her friend Sarai had completed her Painting when she was 15, and Akali was determined to show her up in at least _one_ aspect of their mutual training. Though, at 14 years of age, Akali was far from the youngest to attempt the Painting – _that_ record was still held by a Kinkou member from centuries ago – she was amongst the youngest in recent years; had it not been for the Grandmaster's son some years prior, she would have been the youngest in a generation to attempt it – even the Grandmaster's favorite had been 18 when he had finally received his Mark.

"Akali."

Akali had not heard the door open, and her eyes shot open at the unexpected sound of her name. Her mother stood in the doorway to the room, her silhouette fearsome and with a stony expression on her face. Her dark hair – which was already beginning to grey in some places – was pulled back into a ponytail much like her daughter's, and the effect only heightened the severe lines of her face. She was dressed in an elegant, flowing robe that was colored a rich, deep emerald green and trimmed with shimmering golden thread. There were numerous faint, almost invisible but nonetheless intricate patterns that ran up the length of the garment, woven into the images of dragons and tigers. The patterns flowed and shimmered like water as she moved, gesturing with her left hand in the direction of the hallway outside.

"It is time."

She did not wait for Akali's response, instead turning away and leaving the room almost immediately. Akali inhaled deeply one last time, closing her eyes to exhale before opening them again and picking up her mask from where it lay on the floor beside her. Securing it around her around once more, she stood and followed her mother's silent footsteps.

The halls of the Kinkou Order were empty, and she followed the figure of her mother away from the inner bowels of the temple, where she had found her temporary solace. They made their way without speaking to the Great Hall, stopping before the tall wooden doors that led into the main hall. Her mother gave her only the briefest of backward glances before pushing the doors open easily with her left hand.

They opened with barely a whisper of scraping wood, revealing a massive hall that was lined with numerous hanging scrolls and tapestries, all of them depicting either famous victories of the Kinkou or the mantras from ancient times that each student was expected to memorize from the very beginning of their training. All of the acting members of the Kinkou were already gathered in the hall to serve as witnesses for the ceremony, kneeling in neat rows according to their rank: the newest members knelt towards the back of the hall, while the more senior members knelt nearest the far wall. Upon the slightly raised platform at the very front of the hall knelt 6 more figures, each dressed in the same elegant – albeit different-colored – robes as Akali's mother.

Akali stood at the door for a heartbeat, inhaling as she steeled herself. – there would be no more going back now if she continued walking; no second chances and no second attempts. This was it.

With steady, confident strides, she made her way towards the front of the hall. She could feel the gazes of the rest of the Kinkou on her as she walked, but she did not allow them to faze her or let her conviction waver in the slightest. As she neared the front, she spotted a handful of figures that she recognized seated close to the platform; Sarai's short brown hair was unmistakable, and – ignoring the sudden flare of heat in her stomach – she realized that the Grandmaster's sons sat side-by-side. Quelling the heat in her stomach, she faced her eyes forward and paused at her mother's side. After a heartbeat, she bowed deeply to the masters.

Grandmaster Kusho knelt at the head of the group, his once-red hair now a stark white against the deep purple color of his robes. The other Masters knelt beside him, their faces impassive as they appraised her emotionlessly. Ushi – the ancient, blind bookkeeper of the Kinkou Order – knelt some paces in front of the rest of the Masters, a string of prayer beads resting in his lap. There was a small circle of 6 incense candles in front of him, surrounding a plain woven-straw mat that was covered in markings too small for her to make out. Beside him, resting in a box of red silk, was a long, feather-tipped needle, as well as a bowl of black ink and a length of clean white cloth. Akali had expected as much – after all, she had watched Sarai's ceremony just as Sarai was to watch hers now – but the sight of the needle was an intimidating one nonetheless.

All at once, there was the sound of a gong being struck, and the rest of her thoughts vanished with the sound. It reverberated in the hall and once it had faded away, Grandmaster Kusho finally seemed to settle his attention on her at last. His bluish-white eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her with all the gravity to be expected from the Eye of Twilight.

"Hori Akali," he said, his voice carrying easily through the hall, as resonant and as clear as the gong. "Is it your will to undergo the Painting of the Flesh?"

Akali squared her shoulders as she straightened, making sure to speak as loudly and as clearly as she could manage through her mask.

"It is. I am prepared."

Grandmaster Kusho nodded solemnly before his eyes flicked to her mother.

"Hori Harume, is it your will that your daughter undergoes the Painting of the Flesh?"

"It is," said her mother evenly. "She is prepared."

Kusho's gaze flicked back to Akali, and though his white eyes bored into her own, Akali did not dare blink or look away. After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally broke the gaze, looking instead at the rest of the Kinkou gathered in the hall.

"So be it."

The sound of the gong rang out again, and Akali felt an excited sort of energy course through her muscles at his words. She suppressed her shivers of quick anticipation as she stepped forward. Her mother ascended the platform as well, taking her rightful place with the other Masters and regarding her daughter with the same cold, dispassionate expression as the rest. As was expected of her, Akali knelt on the mat before Ushi, and the old man bowed slightly as she did. She turned to face the back wall, and the weight of the thousand eyes that watched her was suddenly redoubled. She made a pointed effort not to look in the direction of the Grandmaster's sons, nor at where she knew Sarai sat. Reaching back around her neck, she undid her mask, as well as the straps that held her uniform in place. Though her breasts were covered by a strip of cloth, she stiffened slightly nonetheless as the rest of her upper body was exposed to the chilly morning air. She rolled her _shozoku_ down around her waist, placing her hands on her knees and steadying herself. With a gentle hand, Ushi brushed her hair out of the way so that her back was fully exposed to him.

And then, he began to chant – chanting in an Ionian tongue older than any she knew or could understand. The sound was eerie, and she could smell the sharp scent of sacred plants as the incense begin to burn. After another moment, the sound of rattling prayer beads joined the rest of the din as Ushi began the ceremony.

For the last time, Akali closed her eyes, steeling her nerves as best she could – showing any sign of discomfort or pain was immediate grounds for failure of the Painting of the Flesh, and the ceremony could only ever be undertaken once; if she failed, she would never be able to take it again, and her hopes of succeeding her mother as the Fist of Shadow would end there.

 _I will_ _ **not**_ _fail_ , she thought resolutely to herself, repeating the words to herself like a mantra.

Then, she felt the sharp touch of the needle, and for a foolish moment, she thought that the pain was far from as unmanageable as she expected. The very next instant, however, she exhaled sharply and stiffened as agony unlike any she had ever experienced before blossomed from the spot where the needle had pierced her skin; it writhed like fire throughout her back and into every bone of her ribs, and Akali bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself from screaming. Her fingers tightened like vices onto her knees, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her nails cut deep into the skin of her legs, and her knuckles whitened as the veins began to show on the back of her hands. Though she had guessed that receiving her Mark of Twilight would be far from typical tattoos, this pain was indescribable. It was clear to her that this was the final test of the Kinkou – a final test of enduring pain.

She should have known.

The smell of the incense did little to help, and instead, it seemed as though its purpose was to play tricks on her mind; though her eyes were closed, the smell of the incense coupled with Ushi's chanting seemed to quiver the shadows behind her eyes until they looked like they danced tauntingly around her. Demons and spirits came for her out of the darkness, and Akali almost recoiled as her father's half-rotted face leapt out at her suddenly. Ghouls tore at her skin with sharp claws and teeth that ripped the flesh from her, gnawing on her bones until it felt as though maggots were crawling up and down her veins. Akali bit down hard once more as the needle came again, and as fresh pain erupted where it landed; each new strike of the needle was another fresh wave of excruciating pain, though never of the same kind for very long: at times, it was like fire that danced along every inch of her body, from her spine to the tips of her fingers, searing every nerve in her body; at other times it felt as her body had turned to ice, though the pain was anything but numbing as it bit at her with a cold fire; other times still it felt as though a thousand razor blades were burrowing deep into her skin, only to cut their way back out.

After what could have been hours or perhaps even days – she did not know nor could she tell – the relentless pace of the needle finally stopped, and Ushi's chants died away altogether. Akali's head swam with pain, and her tongue was numb from having bit down on it for so long. Gingerly, she opened her eyes, and at once became aware of the blood that had pooled around her knees. Dimly, through the pain-dulled haze of her mind, she wondered where it had all come from – surely not _all_ from her. She heard Grandmaster's muffled instructions as though from far away, her hands shaking as she gathered her strength. Blinking slowly, she stood – her legs trembling only slightly as she did – and turned to face the Masters. Though much of the pain had faded away surprisingly quickly, her back still smarted in the cold air, and vaguely, she wondered if it would ever not. The gong sounded out once more, cutting her thoughts short, and as one, the Masters – her mother included – bowed their heads.

"Welcome, Hori Akali," said Kusho solemnly. "To the Order of the Twilight."


	3. Sister

Sister:

 _Ionia, May 1425_

Akali hit the ground with a loud thud, wincing as her back landed heavily against the grass. Less than a heartbeat later, a cloth-bound foot dropped mercilessly onto her exposed throat, pinning her to the floor with a pressure that made it difficult to draw breath. Akali's fingers wrapped tightly around her assailant's ankles in a vain attempt to shove them off, but the leg was as unyielding as iron. After a fruitless minute of struggle, Akali let her hands fall to her sides, glaring up at the outline of the figure that stood victoriously over her.

The bright midday sun shone around Sarai's head like a halo, but Akali could still see that she was looking down at her with an unmistakable expression of victory. There was an infuriatingly but arguably justified smug half-grin on her lips, and small beads of sweat trickled down her temples. Her short brown hair was messy, and her inky black eyes shone ruefully. She raised a single eyebrow questioning as Akali continued to glower at her defiantly, her breath quickly beginning to run out. The two of them glared at each other for almost another minute before Akali's lack of breath began to grow unbearable.

"I yield," she growled finally through clenched teeth, speaking with the last of her breath. She inhaled sharply as the pressure on her throat disappeared suddenly, and Sarai took a single step back to stand away from her.

Akali sat up slightly, rubbing her throat with one hand as she leaned back on her other arm to catch her breath. She avoided looking at Sarai for as long as she could before finally giving her a begrudging glance of defeat. With a grin, the older girl offered her hand to Akali, and after only a moment where she debated otherwise, Akali took it and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. Akali brushed herself off, slapping away the stray blades of grass that had stuck to her and readjusting her long hair. Sarai said nothing for a long while, checking to make sure that her own hair was still in place.

"That makes 14 to 2, in my favor," she noted lightly, as though it were an afterthought.

Akali said nothing, instead readjusting her sleeves and inspecting her arm-guards to make sure that they were sufficiently tight. Once she was satisfied with her handiwork, she turned back to Sarai, her expression determined.

"Again."

Sarai pursed her lips, looking slightly hesitant. "Are you sure?"

Akali nodded, already settling herself into a stance.

To her credit, Akali thought that she lasted considerably longer than she usually did, before one of Sarai's feet finally caught her right side and sent her to the floor once more. Breathing painfully through aching ribs, she sat up slightly, leaning on her elbow as she cradled her ribs. She did not get up for a minute, instead simply resting as she tried to quell her growing frustration.

"15 to 2."

After a moment where frustration welled up in her like boiling water, Akali simply let herself fall back, her arms falling to her sides dejectedly. She looked up at the brilliantly blue sky overhead, her eyes tracing the outlines of clouds as she lay there unmoving. Sarai stood off to one side for several minutes as Akali simply lay there before she finally sat down of her own accord. She sat down cross-legged next to Akali, picking idly at the grass with her fingers. Akali could just see her out of the corner of her eyes, and she closed her eyes before the sight of her best friend could make her more irritated than she already was.

Though none in the Kinkou would ever admit it while Akali was nearby, even she knew that Sarai was by far her mother's favorite student. More, even, than her own daughter; Sarai was taller, faster, and stronger. Being several years older than her, Sarai was also already a grown woman, with a woman's body and a woman's appeal that could be used to her advantage in any Kinkou missions that required infiltration. By contrast, Akali still had yet to grow out of her teenager's scrawniness. Sarai's almost uncommon beauty was no secret in the Kinkou, and she was the target of many spurned affections. She was pursued by almost all of the boys in the Kinkou, and she had a relationship of her own with the Grandmaster's son.

Akali swallowed her resentments like bitter medicine; her own one-sided affections for Shen had gone unrequited, and the shame of her actions boiled in her like poison. Sarai would train often with Shen and Zed, and the three of them were clearly seen as all to be the rightly expected heirs to the task of the 3 Burdens. Shen was the Grandmaster's son, Sarai was the favorite student of the Fist of Shadow, and Zed was too talented a student to not be considered for the role of the Heart of the Tempest.

Frustration boiled in Akali as she thought about the unfairness of it all; she had trained all her life to fulfill her mother's wishes and ascend her position, but it was not enough. It would never be enough.

She did not hate Sarai, and it only made it all the more painful that the two of them were as close as sisters. Every time that she and Sarai laughed together or trained together, it only made her realize just how misplaced and insubstantial her jealousy was. Many times, she had wished that it was anyone but Sarai – if it were a stranger, at least then she could hate them from afar, and let the jealousy eat at her like acid. But it was the girl she had grown up with, and her only true friend in the Kinkou. Each time she wished that it were anyone but Sarai, she could not help but face the realization of how foolish and selfish her wish was. And as much as it hurt, she could not deny the fact that she was proud of Sarai – was proud that she had been chosen as the one to lead the Kinkou in the years to come.

But every time her mother looked at her with unmistakable disappoint written on her face, it made her heart burn and her eyes sting when she looked away, turning to Sarai with the approval that she so desperately wanted from her mother.

No sooner had her thoughts run their course through her mind than her tattoo flared up suddenly with the pain that she had felt sometimes whenever. It was a pain that had initialed caught her by surprise, but it was one that she realized now was simply the final test of the Kinkou – a final, never-ending test of resolve.

"Does it ever go away?" wondered Akali aloud as her back prickled. She spoke seemingly to the sky, and to all the shapes in the clouds.

"Does what go away?"

"The pain." Akali knew she was being vague, but she also knew that Sarai would know of exactly what she spoke; even as she said the words, she saw Sarai's arm move as she reached back to scratch absentmindedly at the spot where her own Mark would be.

"No. No, it doesn't."

Akali closed her eyes. Then she opened them again and stood up wordlessly. She glanced back at Sarai, who was inspecting her with a decidedly concerned expression.

"I think that's quite enough victories for you today," she said morosely, and Sarai's smile was teasing but quick.

"I still remember when you couldn't even get one on me."

Akali grunted uncommittedly, already walking back in the direction of the Kinkou temple. Sarai soon fell quickly into stride beside her, their shadows stretching across the grass in front of them. Their sparring sessions always came at the end of their training, and once they were over, they were free to do as they pleased. Typically, Akali always returned to her quarters and continued her training by herself for much longer. Today, however, she felt drained after her sparring with Sarai, and could not bring herself to continue any longer – not when she could feel the beginnings of frustration lapping at her insides.

Instead of heading in the directions of the quarters, she followed Sarai – who quickly hid her surprise at the fact that she had joined her – back to the main hall to get food. She was more subdued than she thought she should have been, and even Sarai did not make any attempts at conversation – she knew better than to try when Akali was in one of her moods. Just before they entered the temple, two figures appeared in the doorway, dressed in their uniforms with the clear intent to train. Their sudden appearance was unexpected, and Akali's heart gave a lurch as she realized that both Shen and Zed were uncharacteristically without their masks; Zed was talking animatedly, while his brother listening in a brooding silence.

The two of them were nearly equal in height, and though they looked vastly different from one another, no one could ever mistake that they were anything but brothers. Shen had short, dark brown hair that had a more than noticeable tint of his father's famous red, and light brown eyes like the color of well-worn wood. His face was as solemn as ever, and as always, there was the perpetual half-frown on his face. His eyes were grave and his expression stony, but there was a warmth in his eyes that he had not yet fully managed to hide, despite his efforts.

Zed, by contrast, had an expressive face that was almost always animated – either in excitement or anger. He was talking quickly, and his tan skin was handsomely dark beneath the Ionian sun. He had short, jet-black hair and red eyes that were of a vastly different shade than Akali's own– his were a deep, blood-red that everyone in Ionia knew came only from Noxus. No one ever spoke of Zed's heritage, or ever dared to question that he was anything but the Grandmaster's son, but the truth went unspoken in the halls of the Kinkou; he was too Ionian to be a full-blooded Noxian, but Akali had heard the whispers from her mother that Grandmaster Kusho had taken the child from the cold hands of a dead woman who had been ravaged by a group of Noxians. Perhaps his blood was what was responsible for the anger behind his red eyes, and the point in the sharp edge of his mouth.

The two of them froze as they saw Akali and Sarai, and Sarai glanced down shyly before raising her head to meet Zed's eyes. Their relationship was not open yet not altogether secret, though none of the Masters would ever discourage a relationship between two of the best students in the Kinkou – it would be a powerful bloodline, should it ever come to bear fruit. Like Sarai, Zed was the focus of many wandering eyes, and the impassive recipient of countless affections. Akali could remember many nights when Sarai had snuck back into their shared quarters late at night, her hair disheveled and her uniform askew.

But Akali's focus was not on Zed; her heartbeat quickened, unbidden, as Shen's inscrutable gaze flicked over her. She looked down hastily to avert her eyes. Obviously, he had not noticed her, and meant to speak only to Sarai.

"Hori-san."

The voice that spoke her name was even and confident. Akali stiffened, raising her gaze slightly to meet the eyes of the Grandmaster's son. Shen was inspecting her with a closeness he had never shown her before, and out of the corner of her eye, Akali caught the sly grin that Sarai sent her direction. She was sure it was nothing; a formality if anything – Shen was expected by all those in the Kinkou to adopt the mantle of the Eye of Twilight as soon as his father could no longer serve. And though there were many with their doubts, Akali was still expected by some to take her mother's place as the Fist of Shadow when the time came.

"I offer my congratulations on your completion of the ceremony," he said smoothly, and even Zed nodded begrudgingly at his brother's side.

Akali's mouth was dry, and it was several seconds before she found her voice. "Thank you, Shen. Your praise is appreciated."

"Not many attempt it so young," he continued, a touch of what almost sounded like admiration in his voice as he eyed her approvingly. "There were some who doubted your."

Akali stiffened. "My mother made no question of that," she said rigidly.

"I had confidence you would."

His words were unexpected, to say the least, and they caught her by surprise. A hot flush ran up her arms, and she glanced at Sarai in disbelief, who looked equally as surprised by Shen's comment. Even Shen blinked, as though his words had escaped without his permission.

"Enough talk, Shen," said Zed impatiently, his sharp voice cutting through the silence. He had not so much as glanced at Sarai.

Shen straightened. "Yes. Our training awaits."

He nodded at Sarai, who dipped her head respectfully. He even glanced at Akali, opening his mouth as though to speak before apparently deciding against it. Instead, he simply turned away, and the two brothers walked away into the Ionian sun. Akali and Sarai stood in silence, watching as the two figures disappeared into the sunlight.


End file.
